


til your words don't form any shape

by freezerjerky



Series: love of my life (you caught us off guard) [4]
Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, Kid Fic, M/M, Original Character(s), talks of marriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-05
Updated: 2018-09-05
Packaged: 2019-07-07 03:48:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15900270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freezerjerky/pseuds/freezerjerky
Summary: “Opa is Daddy’s father,” he finds himself explaining. “He did all the things Daddy does for you when he was small.”“Daddy was small?” Frankie asks, her brow furrowing as she processes.“Once, yes.” It’s hard not to chuckle. Newt still is a rather small man. “He was a little boy once.”“Were you little?”Hermann swallows hard at the thought. Sometimes he feels like he must have never really been a child. “At the same time as he was, yes.”“You have a dad?”in which Hermann meets Newt's father and explores his conflicting feelings towards his own fatheralso a question is posed and answered





	til your words don't form any shape

**Author's Note:**

> More kid fic! Please excuse me for the schmoop! (or not!)

The adoption is finalized in June. They celebrate by letting Frankie skip her nap so she can play at the park for longer than usual. It’s not that they don’t want to celebrate, it’s just that Frankie doesn’t really understand or care what an adoption means, she’s had her family for over a year now and it’s the only family she remembers. 

Hermann spends the first few days trying to figure out if he feels any differently how that Frankie is legally his daughter and not just his ward. He knows he’s happy, but nothing about the deeply embedded feeling of family he’s developed has changed. This is a legality, a technicality, a formality. It doesn’t mean anything truly, and it means even less so because Frankie had met them, assumed they were parents and that was that. There’s another formality that’s been weighing more heavily on his mind.

The original thought was to see how he feels about marriage after the adoption is formal, after he doesn’t feel the desire to marry Newt because it will make the adoption process easier. All this finalized formality does is make him want to marry him even more. The timing never seems right for him to pose the question, though.

Newt’s invited his father to visit and in typical Geiszler fashion, his uncle has accepted the invitation as well. Hermann’s still working out where his rocky relationship with his own father fits into his new role as a parent, but he supposes he has time. Theoretically this seems alright, but he’s used to solving equations. He’s used to every problem having an answer.

Despite the assurances that there will be no pressure in this meeting, Hermann is still nervous. He’s spoken to Jacob on the phone a handful of times and even joined in for a few video calls over the years, but it’s always different meeting someone face to face. Newt speaks fondly of his father and his uncle and his childhood and there’s an odd sense of pressure to that. As the chosen partner of his adult life Hermann wants to make this stage of his life equally happy. Happiness has never been his forte.

He stays behind when Newt goes to the airport to pick up his family. He wants to give Newt the moment to reconnect (Jacob and Illia moved back to Germany around the time the war started, leaving Newt on his own in Boston and then truly on his own when he was shipped off.) More importantly, he wants Jacob to have a cliche family moment when he meets his granddaughter for the first time. Maybe he wants the same for his own father as well, if that time comes- he knows objectively that Lars is alright with his sister’s children, but he resents that given the coldness of his own childhood. Lars doesn’t deserve that moment, but there’s always that simmering urge to give it to him.

When the door opens, he looks up from his knitting (a habit he only takes up when particularly nervous) and is soon greeted by the familiar sight of Frankie bounding into the living room. He lays aside his knitting and leans forward as she stands by his knees.

“Opa’s here,” she announces, and there’s a smear of chocolate on her cheek. Hermann licks his thumb and wipes it gently against her face, doing away quickly with the mark. 

He looks up to the sight of three Geiszlers in the doorway and oh, how the times have changed that this is something that makes his heart ache in such a beautiful way. Jacob he recognizes immediately and viewing him is an uncanny look into the future. He’s got the same mischievous look to him and he stands a full two inches shorter than Newt. His brother, by contrast, is a relatively tall man with long grey hair, but still similar bone structure and ruddy good looks.

Hermann rises and strides forward, foregoing his cane for the moment as he extends his hand. Jacob looks down at the offered hand and instead pulls Hermann in for an embrace. It’s a full five seconds before Hermann processes he should return the hug.

“Dad,” Newt cuts in, nudging against Jacob’s shoulder. “We talked about this. Hermann is a gentleman, he doesn’t do hugs.”

“I really don’t mind, Newton,” Hermann answers and he finds that he actually doesn’t.

Jacob pulls away then, holding him at arm’s length. “He’s not a gentleman, he’s family. I’ve been hearing all about your beanpole for years now and it’s so good to finally meet him in person.”

“And very handsome,” Illia cuts in. “You always liked the boys who were too cute for you,” he teases gently.

Newt sighs, ducking his head to hid the smile. He presses a kiss to Hermann’s cheek before he lifts the suitcases, directing his family into the guest room. Frankie dutifully follows close behind him. Hermann takes his cue to move back to his couch, carefully packs away his knitting (a scarf which he may or may not finish by wintertime) and checks that nothing is out of place.

Within moments it’s like the floodgates have been opened and the others re-enter. Newt’s uncle has him in a headlock, aggressively but fondly ruffling his hair. Hermann can’t help but shift his mouth into a smile.

“Not in front of Frankie, please,” Hermann warns, but it has no bite to it. They do break up the play fighting, however.

“Are you up for a walk around the neighborhood?” Newt asks as he approaches him. This time when he kisses him it’s a proper kiss on the lips. Hermann’s taken aback because this is something he’d never dream of doing in front of his own parents, but he presses into the kiss anyway.

“Are you sure you don’t want more family time?”

“Herms, you are family. My dad just said so like five minutes ago.”

“Yes, but I’m not his son, or his grandchild.”

“I’d hope not.” Newt laughs and offers his hand to help Hermann stand. “Plus, we’re walking to that Italian place you love so much.”

It’s continuously loud, Hermann thinks, with three Geiszlers all talking over each other. The source of both Newt’s intellect and passion for discovering new things (and talking about them) is very clear from the conversations he has with the men who raised him. As they walk, he remains a few steps behind, holding Frankie’s hand with his free hand. She prattles as easily as any of the others do, though her tone is softer.

“Opa is Daddy’s father,” he finds himself explaining. “He did all the things Daddy does for you when he was small.”

“Daddy was small?” Frankie asks, her brow furrowing as she processes.

“Once, yes.” It’s hard not to chuckle. Newt still is a rather small man. “He was a little boy once.”

“Were you little?”

Hermann swallows hard at the thought. Sometimes he feels like he must have never really been a child. “At the same time as he was, yes.”

“You have a dad?” 

“I do,” he admits. Why does it feel so hard to admit this? It’s the truth. “And a mother.”

“Like Briarly.”

The amount of self control it takes Hermann to not roll his eyes at the overdone names of Frankie’s friends is often absurd, but he abstains. He’s glad his daughter has made connections at such a young age.

“Yes, like Briarly. Like many kids you will meet. But it’s okay to have two dads.”

“I know, Dad,” she says in a way that sounds oddly practised for a child of her age. It’s very important to Hermann that she knows this, but she doesn’t yet understand why it’s so important to know.

Soon, Frankie starts to walk more and more slowly, clearly tired. Newt turns around, lifting her in his arms. He dramatically holds her up into the air and she laughs. For Hermann the greatest amusement is to see how Newt tries to conceal the fact that he can’t heft Frankie around as easily as he could when she was very small. He suspects Newt will be trying to lift her like this until she tells him to stop.

The walk to the restaurant is thankfully short from there and they eat a loud but companionable dinner. Hermann ends up squeezed between the elder Geiszlers at the table and he finds the way they bicker like brothers do endlessly charming. He used to fight like this with Karla and his brothers, but never in open spaces or places their father could see. It’s a loud and warm meal and by the time they return to the apartment, it’s time for Frankie to go to bed.

Instead of her usual bedtime story, Frankie’s treated to a full family performance. Jacob scowls and scoffs at Newt’s keyboard but plays it beautifully, with the same spirit as Hermann could imagine him playing a grand piano. Hermann is all too happy to play an audience to this, to see the way the three men sing together and the way Illia makes a face every time Newt makes a mistake on his guitar. It’s not a bad face, or a judgmental face, but something like fond amusement or faked annoyance. When Newt tilts his head for Hermann to join in, he holds up his hand, insists with a gesture that he’s more than happy as an observer.

“This is not the first time you’ve had an audience fall asleep on you, right?” Jacob teases his son after Frankie’s contentedly asleep in her room. They sit in the living room, drinking wine that Illia apparently magically produced from his suitcase.

“She does it every time I play for her, I’m beginning to think she doesn’t like my music, Dad,” Newt says from where he’s sat on the floor, more or less with his face pressed to Hermann’s knee.

Hermann has the pleasure of sharing the couch with the two older men, both sitting like they’re already at home in this new place. Meanwhile, Hermann’s holding his glass of wine with two hands just to answer the question of how to arrange his hands in an awkward situation.

“Does he sing for you, Hermann?” Jacob asks, turning pointedly towards him.

“Not very often, but when he does I do try my best not to fall asleep.”

“Not very often? Newt, this is a fine young man you’ve got. You have to continue to woo him.”

“Dad,” Newt cuts in then. “I do know how lucky I am to have him, but I’m not going to take romance advice from you.”

“No, I think it’s true Newton,” Hermann adds, his mouth quirking into a grin. “You need to seduce me with music more often.”

Newt groans and pushes his face all the harder against Hermann’s knee. “I knew introducing you to my family would be a mistake. It’s all new things to tease me about.”

“Oh,” Illia exclaims, abruptly standing. “We brought baby pictures.”

In the next moment, it’s like the effects of the blush transfer through touch and Hermann can feel how hard Newt is blushing. There’s nothing more he wants than to see these photographs.

 

“The pictures were adorable, darling,” Hermann says, running his hand through Newt’s hair. He loves that hair and he loves that he has solid hopes now that Newt will retain such thick and beautiful hair as he ages after meeting his father. “I asked your father to copy them to put them on display.”

They’re in bed (finally) after polishing off several bottles of wine with Jacob and Illia. The last time Hermann glanced at the clock, it was one in the morning, but he’s been too preoccupied with kissing Newt to really know or care what time it is now. When Newt looks like this, sleepy and his mouth stained with wine and kissing, all Hermann can think about is the little box he has tucked away in the corner of his drawer, hidden beneath his winter sweaters. Suddenly he feels very nervous, but he can easily push that down when Newt kisses along his jaw before pulling away.

“Do you really think so?” Newt asks. “I mean, adorable doesn’t seem like a word that’s in your vocabulary.”

“We have a toddler, Newton,” he answers. “My vocabulary is changing to accommodate that reality in our lives. And yes, I think you were a very cute child.”

“Now cute? Is it the wine that’s making you say this?” Newt teases, and kisses him again before he rolls over to switch out the light on the bedside table. When he returns, he’s also taken off his glasses.

“I think you’re cute now, I’ll have you know.”

“Mhm.” He nestles down against Hermann’s shoulder, pulling at his shirt so he can press a kiss to his skin. “I want to see baby photos of you now.”

“I’m sure my sister has some somewhere,” Hermann muses. “I was an awkward looking child, even as a baby.”

“I’m sure you were also cute. Did you always have absurdly long eyelashes?”

“Of course that’s your first thought.” Hermann shifts his arm so Newt is no longer lying directly on top of it, wrapping it around him instead. “I believe I did. You’ll have to see for yourself.”

“Did you use big words as a child as well? I’m trying to imagine you at Frankie’s age.”

“Only big words, and usually in German, so you know they were very long,” he explains, in his dry tone that makes it obvious that he’s teasing.

Newt laughs and kisses his shoulder again. “What do you think of them? My family?”

“Your uncle is humorous and always kind,” Hermann begins. “Your father is...exactly the type of father I would’ve imagined you to have and exactly the type of father I would have been glad to have had.”

Obviously no one’s complicated relationship with their parents can be summed up in such a short statement. Hermann needs years to unpack the damage of his childhood and the love he feels for his family, to decipher the role he feels he wants his father to play in his life. Or the role his father deserves to play.

“He’s pretty great, I’ll admit that,” Newt says. “I think he felt like he had a lot to make up for when I was really small, between the whole cheating on his wife and then leaving his wife because he got someone else pregnant and then the whole...the woman he got pregnant doesn’t really want this kid thing.”

“And then from all that came you, what a fortunate end for him. And for me.”

Hermann always found an odd balance in their origins. Newt born out of passion between two relative strangers and Hermann out of marital obligation. This seems unfair to his parents. They had loved each other in their own way, they might love each other still for all he knows. He’s always going to compare it now, though, to the context of love and family he’s found. Warm, filled with laughter and fond touching. Whole.

 

Apparently Newt’s father is an early riser. Hermann learns this three days into the visit when he’s sitting in the living room with Frankie as she plays with some oversized building blocks. Jacob shuffles out of the guest room, already dressed for the day. Hermann smiles at him and continues to talk softly to Frankie, asking her about what she’s building. Jacob kneels down beside them, lifting a block to place it on the top of her tower.

“Opa, no,” she says, removing the block. 

“She’s building a castle,” Hermann answers with gravity. He grips the edge of the couch to slowly stand to his feet. It’s easier to do these things in the morning, when he’s very recently taken his medications. He grabs his cane from where it’s resting against the couch and turns back to Jacob. “Do you want some coffee?”

“Tea, if you’re going to make it,” Jacob answers.

“I’d assumed you would prefer coffee, given your son’s predisposition to drink far more cups than recommended.”

“No, not in the least. Does he still drink those energy drinks?”

“Only when he wants to make me angry. So always.” Hermann grins and makes his way into the kitchen. “Do you like it very sweet?” 

“That I’ll admit he’s gotten from me.”

They end up sitting companionably on the couch drinking some of Hermann’s best lady grey tea that he only likes to drink on special occasions. This seems like a special occasion enough. Hermann’s mug has a family picture taken around the Menorah at Hanukkah on it and for Jacob he’s chosen a “World’s Best Biologist” mug that Newt’s had for ages. He’s unsure how they’ve managed to obtain so many novelty mugs in such a short amount of time living here, but he’s packed away the set of perfectly matching blue vessels he brought with him to Boston for good.

“How long have you two been together exactly?” Jacob asks. “To clarify, I’ve known for a long time, but Newt never really didn’t talk about you a lot and he talks so fast sometimes.”

“A year and a half.” Hermann stares down at the mug in his lap. Is that enough time? Maybe he should wait. No, that’s foolish. They’ve been in love with each other for years, they’ve been living in each other’s pockets for a long while.

“So that was after you-”

“Saved the world, yes. That very same night.” He can’t get into the details, which are rather lewd, but he’s sure Jacob will not pry.

“He was such a little fool about the letters you used to send him. He would always narrate them to us, tell us how brilliant you were. One time, he called his uncle just to tell us you sent a picture and that you were very cute.”

Hermann flushes at the memory of slipping a photo of himself into a letter. He received one back of Newt, a polaroid of a stocky young Newt in a ripped t-shirt, holding a guitar. His nails were painted black and he had a long string of earrings in each ear. Not only does he remember this photo acutely, but it’s framed and on display in their office. The matching photo of Hermann (less charming, a photo Karla took of him looking rather grumpy in a sweater set while reading) sits on Newt’s nightstand on his insistence.

“I wish he had been upfront about telling me those things back then. And I wish the same for myself.”

“I’ve always believed that people find each other at the time when they most need to find each other. Newt wasn’t ready for you yet.”

He swallows hard and nods. They’d have devastated each other if they had been together without the understanding they now have. It might have survived, the love they share, but not this easy, fond thing Hermann’s become so very used to.

“I still will have spent more than half my life with him, which is all I can ask.”

Jacob pats his knee gently. It’s become abundantly clear where Newt gets his desire to touch as a form of communication from.

“What’s your family like, Hermann?” he asks, then takes a sip of his tea.

“My family is complicated. I do not get along well with my father, I never have, but he is a brilliant man. My mother is also brilliant, but she chose to play housewife to the good doctor and his perfectly sized brood of four children.”

“There’s four of you?”

“I have an older brother, a younger brother, and a twin sister.”

“So technically there’s two of you.”

“Karla is very different from me in most every way.” Much better at handling everything life throws at her. Confident. Able to shake off her past easily. She has two children and a stay at home husband who dotes on her. Hermann is constantly happy for her successes. “I’m surprised Newton hasn’t told you any of this.”

“He has, especially about your father, but there was a lot of expletives involved.”

“I’m not surprised in the least.” He watches as Frankie rather carelessly knocks down her tower, only to immediately go to work building it anew. “He has a very colorful vocabulary.”

“I’m assuming the doctor has not come to meet his granddaughter yet.”

Hermann shakes his head. “The doctor has referred to Newton as ‘that young man you live with’ until about two months ago. I’m not even certain I want to invite him to the wedding.”

“Wedding?” Jacob’s eyebrows immediately shoot up.

“Not- we’re not engaged.” Hermann looks to Frankie pointedly, making sure she can’t hear what they’re talking about. “But I do hope that we will be very soon.”

“Are you planning to propose to my son?”

Hermann takes a deep breath. “I am, Jacob, and I’m terrified of it.”

“You live with him, you have a child. He’s been obsessed with you for years, in love with you for almost as long as he’s been obsessed with you.”

“Marriage is terrifying.”

Jacob furrows his brow. “I’m probably not the best equipped person to talk about this, seeing as the best thing in my life I got by betraying my own wedding vows, but I think what you’ve already got is a marriage, just without the good feelings of the ceremony and the rings. You’re partners.” He squeezes Hermann’s knee reassuringly.

Frankie totters over to them then, demanding she be a part of the conversation with the grownups. When Newt stumbles into the living room an hour later, Hermann is half asleep, leaning against his father, as Jacob listens to Frankie talk nonsense about her life.

“Hey sleepyheads,” Newt greets. He ruffles Frankie’s hair fondly before leaning in for his good morning kiss from Hermann. “I’m gonna make some breakfast. Hopefully the smell of strong coffee will wake Illia up.”

“Is that where you get it from?” Hermann asks. “Your father has informed me that he is a tea drinker.” He glances down to their empty mugs sitting on the coffee table. Jacob did not bother to use one of their coasters and Hermann finds he really doesn’t mind.

“He started letting me drink coffee when I was like twelve,” Newt admits.

“It stunted his growth,” Jacob teases.

“You forget that I’m a biologist, Dad. I know how Punnett squares work and I know exactly why I’m short.”

“Biologist, he says, as though they don’t teach that to middle school students,” Jacob mutters to himself. “I’ll help you with breakfast, I don’t want you burning it.”

Frankie scowls when Jacob puts her aside. Hermann is clearly relegated to third place in her heart for the time being, but he can’t be angry about it.

“I’m sure if you ask very nicely, they’ll let you watch them,” Hermann says, dropping a kiss to the top of Frankie’s head before he stands. She’s immediately off, following Newt and Jacob into the kitchen. Hermann is certain breakfast is going to be a disaster.

 

Breakfast is surprisingly not a disaster. Jacob leads them in making Eierkuchen, which Hermann hasn’t had since he was still a student. If the kitchen is a bit of a disaster, he thinks nothing of it, because Jacob seems to know how to clean up after himself (unlike his son.) Illia does emerge as soon as the coffee does and they all chat at the table about nothing in particular. Frankie even sits in her own seat, partially because she wants to talk to too many people to insert herself pointedly in Newt’s space.

In the afternoon, they all walk to the park. Hermann had asked about activities that Jacob and Illia had wanted to do, but Newt was insistent that they wanted to simply see family during their visit. There aren’t many other children at the park for the afternoon, so Newt ends up sitting in the sandbox with Frankie as Hermann and the others sit on the closest bench.

“You’re both going to need baths after this,” Hermann says, trying hard to sound perturbed and not overly fond. He is fond of this, though. When did he become so comfortable with the chaos of domestic life?

Neither of them really listen as Frankie lifts a handful of sand and dumps it on Newt’s head. They both laugh. Tomorrow, they’re leaving for a trip to the beach, and Hermann imagines the disasters that could bring. It will be pleasant, though, a proper family day trip. He remembers the long carrides of his youth, his father often grumbling that Bavaria was beautiful enough and they didn’t need to go somewhere else. But he also remembers the way the harsh lines of his back would appear more relaxed in the sea air, how he’d smile as he looked out at the sea.

“Hermann,” Newt calls, “Hermann. Come over here.”

Hermann hefts a long suffering sigh, but makes his way to the sandbox. He stands just by the edge.

“What do the two of you want?” he asks.

“Frankie wants ice cream.” Newt gestures to where the truck is parked on the other end of the park. “Just wanted to have a dad check that it’s okay.”

“You’re just trying to show off your parenting skills because your father’s in town, Newton. Of course she can have an ice cream.”

“Also Frankie wants to put sand on your shoes, but I pointedly told her she couldn’t do that, so you’re welcome.” Newt grips the edge of the sandbox and stands, wiping the sand off of his jeans. “Do you want an ice cream too?”

“I do not.” 

He watches as Newt jogs across the park, as though the truck is going to disappear. Frankie’s singing to herself as she digs in the sand, content, and he lets her for a few moments.

“Frankie,” Hermann says softly, “you’ll have to get out of the sandbox if you want to eat ice cream.”

She turns to him with a pout, which usually would work on him, but his relative disdain for the sandbox outweighs everything else. When he doesn’t budge, she rises to her feet, not bothering to brush off her shorts as she rushes to where her grandfather sits on the bench. He sighs and follows her back, squeezing in beside her on the bench.

“She’s informed us that you’re being mean,” Jacob explains. “But I have my doubts.”

“I am indeed awful because I don’t want her to eat ice cream while playing in the dirt,” Hermann counters. “And then when her father comes back with the ice cream, she’ll forget all about it.”

“Is he not getting ice cream for us, then?” Illia jokes.

“I’m sure if you tell him he’s disappointed you, he’ll run right back.” Hermann grins.

That appears unnecessary as Newt runs back a few moments later, several pre-packaged novelty ice creams in one hand and a single vanilla cone in the other. He carefully hands over the packages to Jacob for distribution and then passes the cone to Frankie. Some of the ice cream has melted onto his hand and Hermann finds himself flushing slightly when Newt licks it off. Newt notices and shoots a wink at him. For that, Hermann gives him an eye roll.

“Someone’s gonna have to sit in a lap,” Newt says. “Or we won’t all fit. And I would volunteer gladly but…”

Hermann lifts Frankie gently so she’s in his lap. He knows he’s going to end up getting most of the spillage from the ice cream cone on his trousers, but he doesn’t mind too much. Newt squeezes in between Hermann and Jacob, holding out a hand for one of the novelty bars. Frankie informs Hermann about halfway through her ice cream that she’s done, leaving him to the task of finishing it. Even a year prior, the thought of sharing food that someone else has licked would be abhorrent to him, now it only seems practical.

After, Frankie returns to the sandbox but Newt stays behind, content to watch.

“I don’t, uh- I don’t know if you heard what my dad and I were talking about,” Newt begins, slipping his arm behind Hermann on the bench. Illia and Jacob have both stood to take a short walk around the park. “But he offered to watch Frankie tonight. So we can go out.”

“Oh, that’s very kind of him, but he doesn’t have to babysit on his holiday.”

“He was rather insistent, actually. He said something about precious time together as a couple, even offered to pay for us to get a hotel room.”

“A hotel room?” Hermann blushes, not just at the implication, but the thought of Newt’s father being aware of the implication.

“Listen, I know it’s weird but he is  _ my  _ dad, so I’m not really sure what you’re expecting in that regard.”

“I’m not sure how I feel about a Jacob Geiszler funded sex romp, regardless.”

“I don’t think either him or I said anything about sex, you pervert.” Newt laughs.

Hermann glares daggers at him. Newt remains impassive to the look and takes his hand, lifting it to his lips to kiss along his knuckles.

“What else would we be doing in a hotel room in the city we live in?”

“Sleeping uninterrupted by a two year old.”

“I’m not really sure if I’m ready to leave Frankie for a night.” Hermann frowns, partially because he feels guilty at how nice the concept of a night away sounds. 

“She’d be sleeping most of the time anyway, you know? Wouldn’t even notice that we’re gone.”

“You want to do this.”

Newt laces their fingers together, squeezes Hermann’s hand. “I love being Frankie’s dad, it’s the coolest thing in the world, but we’ve been talking for months about needing time alone and then we had that fight and things have gotten better, but I still would really love to have just one night.”

“Okay, as long as Frankie’s comfortable with it.”

Hermann glances over to where Frankie is playing in the sandbox. He’s loath to admit that she’s a very independent child and does not rely on either of her fathers fiercely at this point in time. She’ll do just fine in the care of someone else for an evening, especially someone who loves her dearly.

 

They end up at a ramen restaurant for dinner. Like most ramen restaurants, it’s charmingly cramped and there’s other people in their personal space. Hermann’s knees knock against the table when he moves and his cane falls to the floor twice. Newt’s particularly affectionate, nonetheless, complimenting everything from his jeans to his eyes. There might be a bit of guilt, Hermann muses, at going so long without a proper date. This isn’t entirely true, they’ve gone out for an hour or two and left Frankie with trusted people, but never for a whole evening.

He enjoys himself nonetheless, even if he has to lean in close to hear Newt most of the evening, which is a rare enough occurrence given how loud he is. The forced proximity is nice, too, especially given how nice Newt looks in his fitted dark green t-shirt and jeans. Half the dinner is spent with Hermann distracted by how soon he can peel these things off of him. It’s certainly no help that Newt sits with his hand resting on Hermann’s knee.

After dinner is paid, Hermann’s just about to suggest they go directly back to the hotel when Newt speaks.

“I have a surprise for you.” His eyes crinkle warmly when he smiles and Hermann’s heart can’t possibly take it.

“Oh?”

“Just a bit of a walk, I promise nothing untoward.”

“I’m alright with untoward tonight, Newton.”

The walk is more or less along the river and for a while Hermann’s worried that Newt’s big surprise is a romantic walk along the Charles, which is not particularly romantic. In fact, it’s something they often do when they’re in the city proper. Hermann will walk down in the afternoon for a change of scenery when he’s working. When they weave away from the river, towards the campus at Boston University, he becomes more skeptical and insists they stop.

“Where exactly are you taking me?” He frowns, because he likes a bit of mystery but he’s not sure Newt knows where he’s going.

“Why? Is your leg-” Newt pales for a moment. “Oh shit, it’s stairs. I’m- we can go back.” Newt’s clearly planning on taking him some place that only has stairs.

“I can handle some stairs, Newton.” Hermann’s frown deepens. It’s sweet of Newt to consider, but Hermann’s never had an issue navigating the occasional staircase in his life.

“It’s the Observatory. Coit Observatory.”

“They’re only open to the public on Wednesdays, Newton.”

“I reached out to a guy who knows a guy and he arranged a bit of a private viewing for us.”

“You couldn’t have done all of that in an afternoon.”

“I, uh. I didn’t?” Newt rubs the back of his head sheepishly. “I’ve sort of been planning this for a bit. My dad’s not paying for the hotel room, either. That’s...me.”

Hermann feels like he should be angry at Newt for lying to him about the date, but really everything about it is too sweet. He stops and pulls him in for a tender kiss, resting his free hand on his shoulder as he does.

The only other person in the observatory is a professor, the woman Newt had connected with to arrange the date. She explains some very simple concepts at first, which only makes Hermann glare at her, and then gives them free reign (with supervision) of the telescopes. Hermann’s loved the stars since he was a boy, has always been fascinated by the multitudes in distant places. He supposes this was sprung out of his loneliness, the vast and far away brightness a reminder that there was always something waiting for him out there. How fortunate for him that he’s found it and while he still loves the stars, he now has his family that he loves best.

He’s been off in his own world for some time before he turns and catches sight of Newt. At first he seemed just as engaged by the stars as Hermann himself, but now he sees that Newt’s stepped aside, watching him with a fond smile stretched on his face. The look makes him blush and he’s grateful for the darkness.

“Newton, I- thank you for this,” he says. “How fortunate that we’ve had a clear night.”

Newt steps closer and suddenly Hermann’s nervous for a reason he can’t quite place and he’s aware that their new acquaintance has slipped out of the room. He needs air, it feels like his heart is thudding in his chest, even as he takes even breathes. The realization dawns that this is Newt he’s feeling, the faintest residual effects of their drift. They rarely feel these things anymore, he hadn’t expected it to happen at all, but he feels it acutely.

Understanding floods him in an instant, as soon as Newt’s down on his knee. This floor is not the place to be kneeling, he wants to say something about it, but then Newt’s holding his hand and the expression on his face is so unsure and he’s far more concerned about making sure Newt knows how he feels and what he wants in no uncertain terms.

“Dude I-” Newt starts and then clears his throat. “Shit, I’m gonna fuck this up. Hermann, dude. Not dude.” He sighs. “Hermann, I love you. And I know we’re already spending our lives together so I get it if you don’t want to do this, that’s totally cool, but I just wanted to know, I wanted to ask if you would marry me?”

Hermann’s surprised he can even wait until Newt’s done to give his answer.

“Yes, of course, you absurd little man.” He feels more radiant than any of the stars in that moment, like his happiness can’t be captured even from millions of lightyears away. Since when did Hermann start thinking in metaphors? Since Newt, he supposes.

“I’ve got-” Newt pats himself with his free hand, briefly shifts into a panicked face as he digs into his pocket, then extracts a ring. “A ring. If you want to wear it.”

Something in Hermann breaks and he pulls his hand away to wipe his face. He’s crying, God help him, actually crying in an unappealing way. All he can do to respond is nod. Newt stands before Hermann holds out his hand, shaking, for him to slip the ring on.

“There’s one for you,” Hermann manages to say. “In the apartment. I had just told your father today-”

“Dude, were you asking for permission to marry me?” Newt grins and then kisses him softly.

“No,” Hermann argues against his mouth. “It just came out. I’ve had the ring for months, it was hard to not let it slip out to you several times.”

Newt just kisses him harder and he lets him. There’s no need to worry about who proposed to who, the important thing is that it’s done.

 

The hotel room is far larger than what they need for a night, and probably far pricier too. At least Newt had the decency to not book a suite, which doesn’t seem that far out of the realm of possibilities. They had checked in earlier in the evening with their single shared bag, but Hermann’s still surprised at the room, especially now that it’s dark and he can see the lights of Boston out of the windows. He stands at the window as Newt pops the celebratory champagne he’d insisted they buy on the way to the hotel. The cork hits the wall and lands with a thud.

Hermann turns around with a smile. Newt’s looking sheepish, holding the champagne bottle and already stripped down to his boxers.

“Do we even have glasses for that?” Hermann asks, stepping towards him.

“We’re just gonna use the little glasses the hotel gives you, it’s fine.”

Truly it’s fitting, drinking the cheapest champagne that’s probably ever been consumed in this room out of the glasses set out for water. When Newt pours them out, he sloshes some champagne over the side, handing a glass first to Hermann before he takes the other for himself. They do a silent toast, it’s clear what they’re already toasting to.

They both drink their glasses probably quicker than they should, Hermann’s is half empty when he sets it back down on the table but he really does not care. He lifts his shirt over his head, tossing it towards a chair. There’s an odd nervous energy running through the room, as if engaged sex is going to feel any differently than not-engaged sex. It won’t, Hermann knows this, but he knows this is something they’re both going to remember.

He shifts out of his jeans, lets them fall to the floor along with his briefs. Newt’s still in his boxers, but he takes the cue and strips those away as well.

“Lay back on the bed, babe,” Newt says softly. “I’m gonna take care of you tonight.”

Hermann tries not to scoff, because he’s fully aware the care taking will be mutual. He also knows that Newt’s asking a question rather than making a statement when he says that. Even after a year and a half he suspects that Newt thinks he’s going to be too embarrassed to give an answer to the question.

Instead of laying in the bed, Hermann sits on the edge, watches appreciatively as Newt digs through their bag for the lubricant.

“I’m going to need a bit more foreplay than you tossing some lube on the bed, Newton.” He beckons Newt closer and he moves to stand between his legs. Newt does gently toss the lube onto the bed as well.

“Sorry, I’ve just been thinking about how I wanna do this all day.” He cups Hermann’s face, runs his thumb across his cheek bone, trails it down to his mouth and pulls at his lower lip. Hermann smirks for a moment, then purses his lips and sucks very gently on the digit. The hitch in Newt’s breath is obvious.

“You want to what?” Hermann asks as Newt trails his hand along his jawline.

“You know.”

“No, I don’t know.”

“Fuck you.”

“Was that so hard?” 

Newt shakes his head and leans in to kiss him, soft at first and then increasingly needy as he licks his way into Hermann’s mouth. He parts his lips eagerly, gladly for him, to have a taste of the champagne on his tongue and elicit those sweet moans when he sucks gently on Newt’s lower lip. Hermann reaches between his own legs, strokes himself to hardness as they kiss.

Eventually, the angle becomes a bit much for Newt’s neck and they both move lay on the bed, kissing rather lazily. Hermann’s settled on his back and Newt shifts to his side, reaches for the lube so he can slick up his fingers. He nudges Hermann’s leg as a silent request to spread his legs apart. The angle’s awkward, and Newt huffs out a laugh as he changes his position to press a finger against Hermann’s hole. When the light pressure earns a delighted gasp, he pushes in, starting to thrust very gently.

For a long time, Hermann had not particularly enjoyed this with his partners, or thought he could enjoy it, but Newt is different. Newt knows to not treat him delicately, but also like some sort of treasured thing. It makes all the difference as one finger quickly becomes two and he rocks down against the touch. When the fingers first make contact with his prostate, he gasps and screws his eyes shut. Newt is clearly pleased with this as he repeats the motion.

It’s not long until he’s fucking Hermann with three fingers as he kisses along his shoulder. The position was truly not sustainable for kissing, but Hermann doesn’t mind because he knows Newt loves to hear him.

“You good?” Newt asks at length, always a bit too eager.

“I am.”

Newt slips out his fingers and plucks a tissue from the nightstand to wipe them off. He squirts some more lube on his fingers, then gives himself a few strokes to full hardness. One of the pillows is quickly commandeered and placed under Hermann’s hips. There’s a moment where they’re both awkwardly shifting, lining up and then Newt is pushing in slowly. The fullness always feels foreign at first but then he bottoms out and Hermann shifts slightly again and rocks against him, urging Newt to move.

“Do you know,” Newt starts, rolling his hips with his first thrust, “how excited I am to marry you?”

Hermann flushes beneath him, trailing a hand down Newt’s back. “I have some idea, yes.”

“I mean it. You’re such a good partner, such a good father, I want to prove to you that I’m a good husband, a good man.”

“You are a good man, Newton. A great man.” He pulls his arm away from Newt’s back and cups his cheek. It’s fully intentional that he does this with the hand that now wears his engagement ring.

Pressing a kiss to his palm, Newt picks up the pace of his thrusts, fucks into him harder. Hermann groans at the change, holds onto New tightly with his other arm.

“That alright?” Newt asks.

“Harder, please,” he practically purrs and Newt obeys. 

It’s probably indecent and it’s the type of fucking that makes the headboard bang against the wall, but they don’t get to do this at home. Hermann wouldn’t trade a single thing about his home life, but he loves this. It feels forbidden, it feels primal, he feels exhilarated by the feeling of both of them letting go. Newt will on occasion lean down for a kiss, but it’s hard to sustain, it’s hard to keep it up when each move draws forth a moan or a gasp or a tiny cry. When Newt’s hand slides between them, fists Hermann’s cock, it feels like too much and he’s shouting as he comes after a few hard strokes.

Rolling his hips, Newt fucks into him for a few thrusts more before he follows after, the sound muffled only by a final attempt at a kiss. Before he’s even collected his breath, he rolls off of Hermann, lying on his back beside him. Newt takes his hand, lacing their fingers together and pointedly places a kiss on the ring.

Being engaged doesn’t feel too terribly different, but it’s worth it for this additional bit of affection. It’s a formality, Hermann knows, but one that he’s glad to have in his life.

 

Their effort to slip back quietly into the apartment the next morning is immediately thwarted by Frankie running forward to hug their legs. Newt lifts her up, spins her around gleefully before kissing her cheeks and forehead. 

Hermann slips past them with the bag, moving to their bedroom. Before he can get there, he runs into Jacob, standing with a satisfied look on his face as he glances down at Hermann’s hand.

“I believe congratulations are in order,” Jacob says, and he pulls him in for a hug. When he pulls back, he kisses him on each cheek and looks at Hermann as if he’s seeing him for the first time and hasn’t spent the past several days in close quarters with him. “Mein Sohn.”

Something in that phrasing makes Hermann freeze. As pleased as he is to be Jacob’s son, Jacob’s family, there’s something that gnaws at him. He’ll have to call home soon, hear his own father try to conceal his disappointment, even claim confusion about Newt’s role in his life. His mother will sound fond, proud and happy, but refuse to say more for fear of upsetting Lars. 

“Are they back so we can go to the beach?” Illia’s voice cuts in. “The little sparrow’s been asking about the beach for the last two hours.”

 

Frankie is frightened and fascinated by the small waves. She has the natural urge to run out towards them, but insists someone holds her hand as she does. Hermann is grateful for this as he watches her all but drag Newt towards them. When they make their way back up the beach, breathless and covered in sand, Hermann smiles at them from over his book. Frankie proudly holds out a shell to Hermann and he takes it, running his fingers over the ridges.

“Where have your father and uncle gone off to?” Hermann asks, lifting his prescription sunglasses off of his face. Newt has the faintest traces of a sunburn along his shoulders already.

“They had a hot lead, apparently,” Newt answers, depositing himself on a towel next to the absurd lounger Hermann’s seated on. Frankie settles down in his lap. The two elder Geiszlers are living out the beach cliche of using a metal detector to hunt for who knows what.

Newt reaches up, rests his hand on Hermann’s thigh. It’s all to show off the ring which Hermann gave him before they left for the beach that morning. The whole day has been an ordeal of Newt staring at it or showing it off in some capacity. Hermann finds this profoundly gratifying and charmingly sweet.

“I’ve decided to invite my father to the wedding,” Hermann says at length. He’s thought of it during the carride, as Newt bickered with his father about a childhood memory. “That is, I don’t believe my mother will come if he doesn’t and my mother should be allowed to come.”

“You’re certainly thinking ahead.” Newt squeezes his thigh, looks up at him with teasing but understanding eyes. The sunburn is on his cheeks as well and he has more freckles dotting his face already.

“Well, I don’t mean to presume we’re having a wedding.” He feels his own cheeks redden in a different way. “But if we do I want to invite my father. If he doesn’t accept, then we have the answer about my relationship with him.”

“I just don’t-” Newt sighs and pulls his hand away, running it through his hair. Frankie scowls at being shifted in his lap. “I just don’t want him to do anything that hurts you, Hermann.”

“I’m an adult, Newton. I do not pretend I will ever forgive my father for the way he treated me as a child. I am not asking him in hopes he will ask for forgiveness I will never give.”

“Then why do you want to ask him?”

“I think I want him to see how happy I am, in spite of everything he’s tried to make me be.”

“Herms.” Newt lifts Frankie out of his lap, shifts so he’s sitting on the edge of the lounger. Frankie’s already annoyed enough with the fact that Newt won’t say still that she moves away to find her digging toys. She loves to dig holes in the sand. “You don’t have to prove anything to him. I’m not going to stop you from inviting him, but I want you to ask him only if you want him there. We’ve been engaged for less than a day, you don’t have to magically sort out this dad shit right away.” He trails his fingers along Hermann’s exposed stomach.

“It pains me to say this, but you are right,” Hermann states. “I think I will always feel I am under his thumb, like the whole point of me is to prove him right or wrong.”

“For what it’s worth, my dad thinks you’re a fantastic guy. Top notch. Deserving of his only child, even.”

“It’s not exactly the same.” And it never really will be. “But thank you. Jacob seems like a very good father.”

“He’s fantastic. The goal is to be half as good as he is. Maybe a quarter as good as you are.” Newt’s mouth flips into a grin.

“I’m not that good,” Hermann protests.

“You’re phenomenal. In every regard.”

Newt leans down then, brushes his lips against Hermann’s in a tease. Having none of that, Hermann pulls him closer, kisses him properly.

“Gross!” Frankie shouts from where she’s sitting with her toys.

Hermann feels Newt laugh against his mouth and while he’s bereft when Newt pulls away, he doesn’t mind when a few moments later Newt’s holding Frankie up in the air and she’s giggling. He brings her down only to kiss her cheeks in exaggerated puckers. When he places her on the ground, she’s still smiling, but making a show of wiping the kisses off her cheeks anyway. She rushes towards Hermann, her arms open as she throws herself at him for an embrace.  This is what it means to have a heart that’s full to bursting.

**Author's Note:**

> As I always say every time I post one of these I'm planning one more of these ahaha. You might have a hunch of what's happening next!
> 
> find me on tumblr @ pendragoff and on twitter @ newtguzzler
> 
> Title, as with the others, from "Fears of a Father" by Ed Harcourt


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